


The unavoidable truth.

by kobaltaoi



Series: AkaKuro Week 2015 [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akakuro Week 2015, Day 2, M/M, My happiness means characters mild suffering, Post-Winter Cup, The GoM cuteness, This is related to the fic before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kobaltaoi/pseuds/kobaltaoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met after the winter cup; they took a picture and got copies of their own. They met on practice matches and official tournaments. So many chances that neither took. He was a coward, because he knew that Kuroko was always the one to take the first step; to see the chance hovering and running to take it.</p><p>But Kuroko didn’t. There was no chance to look at for him. He didn’t want that chance, but speculation was a vulgar custom that he was ready to avoid. He knew facts, with eyes that saw it all.</p><p>It was a nice moment to really gouge his eyes out.</p><p>The fact that the love wasn’t enough to make it work once again.</p><p>AkaKuro Week 2015 Day 2: Post-Winter Cup | Vorpal Swords | Reunions</p>
            </blockquote>





	The unavoidable truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Internet Jetlag. I mean, I don't know if I'm too early or too late so I ended up picking a time in between. Anyway, it's day two and somehow this ended up being related to day one but it's not mandatory.  
> It's funny that I rp Kuroko but ended up taking upon Akashi's side on this thing. Akashi is a thousand times easier to write than Kuroko. Kuroko has a lot of struggles with himself that he isn't aware of so it's like a chalenge and will take on the last day. Akashi is so frank that he can easily threaten to gouge out his eyes. I relate. Not with the eyes matter, but I know when I'm gonna lose a bet so I take out my money. Don't know, I love him, maybe just because.  
> As the last one, it's morning light here and my current diet consist of citrus punch and cigarettes so if there's any mistake (most likely) be kind enough to point it out so I can correct myself and do penance for it. Won't gouge my eyes out tho.

The first time was  _absolutely_ the worst. Unexperienced and forced, his first time was mostly against his will. Mostly, because there was a part of him that wished for it. He lost at something. Basketball, at it.

And, being who he was, it was _absolutely_ awful. He was Akashi Seijuuro; at least he was sure of it now.

His first time wasn’t especially hurtful, Seirin had been gentle, but he wasn’t, so most of the damage was his own doing. It was awful and messy, and now he had to clean up the debris.

Pride, feelings, guilt and relive. How was he supposed to know what was recyclable and was pure waste? He’d hid for a long time those feelings that deep inside he found useless. He’d let on the surface that critic part of him that carried the self-loathing, along with his ego and obsessive nature. The fact that he’d acknowledged his teammates and even went as far as to apologize didn’t mean that that part of him was dead. It was him all along and the things that he truly believed changed places with the doubt haunting him from the dark. The doubt was alive so, what was he supposed to do now?

He was happy, he changed his last name from enemy back to foe, but he never felt unhappy with the former one.

There were a lot of things that he hated. He hated when thing didn’t go his way and he hated even more when he wasn’t able to do something.

So he thought about it.

And while he was thinking about a way to reconcile with his demons instead of fight them, he kept on living.

School, basketball, homework, practices, and them. Them, his former teammates and now renamed friends. Even the bothersome one that attained the right to look at him on the eye.

He kept on living, just like that.

As unfulfilling as it was, he kept on. And he thought.

Mails about the vainest of things from Ryota, complaints that clarified that they were not complaints from Shintarou, questions about the obvious (how are maiubou made?) from Atsushi, wrong number mails from Daiki, a full report on them by Satsuki and polite greetings now and then from Tetsuya. They were friends. They were happy to have learnt the lesson; they were happy to make-up with their basketball, happy to love the sport again. Happy to have back in the menu all that childish bickering between them.

None said a thing, but they surely missed it.

Then an invitation came.

And the one thing that they missed the most and _absolutely_ won’t say became truth.

It was Teikou all over again, but it wasn’t.

They weren’t children anymore. Neither were they truly men, but they were mature enough and not enough masochist to make it work without tears.

And that was the thing that made it hurt. If the story repeated itself, they had a place to go after the rupture.

They didn’t need each other, but wanted to be together.

It was lonely.

The second time wasn’t any better and he wondered when it would stop bothering.

There wasn’t sync, but they were amazing, nonetheless.

— Akashicchi, you’re late. Even Aominecchi got here before you.

All in all, they were so dearly the same that the joy was bittersweet.

— Shut up, Kise, you were here awfully early.

— What? Midorimacchi got here before me, so it wasn’t awfully early.

He wanted to ask, but didn’t.

— Is it going to be just the five of us? —The undercover question came from Midorima.

Atsushi wasn’t there either, but no one doubted of his participation.

It was just the dearest one. The one that patched up the young souls within them and lit a light bright enough to bring them back from the darkness they called ego. They were all wrong, even the dearest one, but it was fine.

‘Do you love me still?’

They warmed up in canon bickering and hidden smiles.

The sweeter it was, the bitter was the aftertaste.

The dearest one wasn’t there.

He was just late, but Akashi cut out the hope to avoid further disaster.

Hoping was unneeded. He got there, nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just lost at the interhigh. Well, Seirin bloomed in winter apparently. The spokesperson of sportsmanship and fair play accepted the lost and waited for the next chance because he surely did his best.

Akashi didn’t.

They met after the winter cup; they took a picture and got copies of their own. They met on practice matches and official tournaments. So many chances that neither took. He was a coward, because he knew that Kuroko was always the one to take the first step; to see the chance hovering and running to take it.

But Kuroko didn’t. There was no chance to look at for him. He didn’t want that chance, but speculation was a vulgar custom that he was ready to avoid. He knew facts, with eyes that saw it all.

It was a nice moment to really gouge his eyes out.

The fact that the love wasn’t enough to make it work once again.

They played together. He felt the acceleration of the ball come to a stop on his hands; the longed sting on his palms.

The week passed by. Sometimes it was downright awful, but then there was the decadence. The beauty on every horror.

He saw him get hurt. He wanted to slash a couple of throats, but got so happy in the end that forgot about it.

He took the chance.

They were back on sync, because the dearest one was there to exceed expectations.

Kuroko changed the pace of the team and made it a team once again; patched friendships and undusted good memories.

On the last day of training, they walked home together.

Kuroko took his way as always, alongside his shining little star. Satsuki followed, and Daiki’s instinct pulled him behind her. Ryouta followed every light like a moth, Atsushi forgot that it wasn’t Teikou and went with the flow and Shintarou hated to be left out (Takao wasn’t of any help, because he was already on the front chitchatting with Ryouta about every embarrassing detail on little Shin-chan).

It was his choice.

He went silently and let the lead be taken away by others. He mingled because that was his place; there, with them. It wasn’t Teikou. He wasn’t by anyone’s side. They paired up rather easily so he paired with them all. They were his, and they weren’t. Maybe it was him who was theirs.

They parted ways on the roadside. The amiability grew thinner till it was just the two of them.

It wasn’t friendly anymore. The façade fell because there weren’t spectators for the show.

— Jabberwock seems like a strong team.

— They seem so.

— Have you read Alice in wonderland books?

— Are we going to slay them?

— That’s what swords are for.

— You seem quite eager, Kuroko.

— Aren’t you, Akashi-kun?

He was. He wanted to play, he wanted to win. There it was, a first time that was the _absolute_ best. He, for the first time, wanted to win. No need, no certainty, just a wish to fulfill.

— I am.

He was eager to take the first step.

The parting ways ceremony was to be put on hold this time; the curfew bell rung later now and the way out of wonderland was blocked.

Teikou was on the other side of the mirror, he noticed; Teikou was the same but backwards. The Vorpal swords were of sharp ends and full consent.

He was quite sure they were going to win, but it wasn’t out of habit. He wanted to win and was going to fight for it. So he was sure he’d win until proven wrong.

— Do you love me still? —he asked this time instead of waiting for a voice in a dream that hold no intention on talking in reality.

— I do.

It was fine.

— Fine.

— Does Akashi-kun love me still?

— I do.

It was _absolutely_ fine.

— We’re going to win.

— Yes.

It was the _absolutely_ unavoidable truth.

The curfew bell rung later now so there was enough time to make his bet and part ways with little more than a kiss and pent up romance.

The first time he fell in love was the _absolute_ worst, but the second time was so much better and he wondered when it would stop crushing his heart so tenderly because he felt like dying.

He was _absolutely_ happy.

**Author's Note:**

> My pick on words my only be understandable to me so yay.  
> Also, I write on the dark from memory, so my keyboard moved and ended up writing an awful mess and had to guess what was I writing, Am I the only one that has this problem?


End file.
